


Running Never Solves Anything

by EmilyyDawnn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Pack Feels, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyyDawnn/pseuds/EmilyyDawnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles runs away, instead of facing his problems. He locks himself up, and he plans. Except even the best laid plans don't work right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Never Solves Anything

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time, please be gentle ;)

He didn’t know what to say when his friends asked him if he was alright, “No, I’m not fucking okay. Are you blind?” or “Sure, I’m great, even though I’m completely useless and always getting my ass kicked by supernatural creatures. I’m just peachy.” He knew they were only trying to be considerate. He just didn’t feel like he belonged, the one thing all teenagers crave. He didn’t know if he was just being dramatic, but no one really tried to include him, or so it felt. Allison and Lydia were paired off; Lydia using her genius to improve the arrows for Allison’s bow, and Allison teaching Lydia to shoot. The wolves were together, training with Derek, and when they weren’t training they were running or wrestling or doing something that Stiles’ lesser skills kept him from joining in. Instead he’d just watch, perched on the porch of the old Hale House, occasionally working on homework, or doing research for Derek. He’d sit on the side-lines, and watch as life passed him on. He didn’t know whether to be angry at himself, or his so-called friends. So instead he channeled that anger into making a plan.

For weeks, probably even months, Stiles ignored the world by skipping pack session, locking his window and his door, and avoiding the pack in school when possible. He quit going to the cafeteria for lunch, leaving his house for anything short of food and seeing his dad, he stopped leaving the house unlocked. Instead he planned, he researched, and mapped out every little move he possibly could for the plan he would put into action the day after graduation. He detailed every last step, and probably over-did his Adderall a couple of times. He meticulously checked and double-checked for errors, and when he found none, he kept on planning, every second of everyday.

Sometimes while he was typing away at his computer he could feel eyes on him from his uncovered window, and instead of acknowledging it, he continued chugging on along or he would leave his room, after saving and closing out of the protected file he kept hidden, just in case.

Finally, the fateful day of graduation came. Stiles was legally his own adult, and officially done with high school, and owned an apartment somewhere in New York. He put his plan into action. He threw all of his pre-packed bags into the back of his jeep, confident that all the wolves would be at Derek’s celebrating at the barbeque they had been planning. He and his dad had talked, the Sheriff knew. Stiles needed an out, and a road trip to New York was perfect. So while he was disappointed the last thing he had left was leaving, he knew Stiles needed it. After he finished packing up all his bags Stiles climbed into the jeep, heading off to the station to say goodbye to his dad. Not too soon after a teary-eyed Stiles drove out of town, leaving the loneliness behind him.

~~~~~~~

Stiles had planned on phone calls so he switched his smartphone for an older model, traded numbers, and only gave the new one to his father, so he knew not to answer the phone call two-weeks into his road trip when a number that wasn’t Sheriff Stilinski’s popped up on the phone. Instead he let it ring to voicemail, where he listened to it.

“Stiles? Stiles, I know it’s you, I got the number off your dad. He refuses to tell me anything, he says he doesn’t know where you are, or where you’re going. But that’s bullshit isn’t it? He knows. Why, Stiles? We miss you. Erica looks like she lost her little brother. Isaac cried, for two days! Allison looks like she lost her best friend; Lydia is even more threatening and scary now. Boyd and Jackson are even upset.” The voice trails off momentarily. “Derek looks wrecked just like he lost another family member, Stiles. We need you, it’s not the same.” The voice breaks on a whimper, a broken sound that should not ever come from Scott’s mouth. “Please come home.” The message beeps to an end and Stiles tosses the phone away from himself. Stiles knew the pack would be pissed, once they found out but he never figured they’d be sad, it’s not like they really wanted him around; they never tried to include him. He couldn’t turn around and go back to that, so he just kept driving.

~~~~~~~~~

The next phone call came a day later, another one he let go to voicemail. “Stiles, I know you got Scott’s call yesterday. We miss you come home.” Allison’s voice pleaded over the line, broken and strained just like when she learned of her mother’s death. “We- We don’t know what we did wrong. You just started ignoring us, and locking everyone out, and we miss you, Stiles. We lost something when you left, and it’s just getting worse.” Stiles breathed deep, waiting for her to continue. “Stiles we aren’t a pack without you, as soon as you started ignoring us, we started falling apart. I hope you’re doing good where ever you are, be careful. We all miss you.” The line cut off, and once again Stiles was left to stew over all that had been said. He took in the dirty motel surrounding him, somewhere in Arizona maybe, and thinks back on home, his dad, whom he talks to regularly, and pack. He thinks over memories of pack nights, where they all watched movies, and ate shitty take-out. He thinks over birthdays celebrated with the pack, and his heart softens a little at the memories.

~~~~~~~~

The next call comes a couple days later, and he’s almost made it through Texas, he thinks. “Stiles Stilinski! Come home right this instant, I swear to god. You are insufferable! Even more so when you aren’t even here!” Lydia’s shrill voice cuts through the silence of yet another dingy motel room, with a funny smell. “Everyone’s miserable and mopey, and they are on the verge of shaking down your father for more information. I’ve had to threaten them all with Wolf’s Bane multiple times, just so they don’t go in there eyes changed and claws out to get information.” She huffs dramatically before continuing softer though. “Stiles, come home.” The line clicks dead, and Stiles clutches the phone in his hand, staring at a blank message to the number that called. Quickly he types up a quick message, before losing the nerve and hits send.

_All is well, leave dad alone. xxStiles._

He whimpers softly as he closes his eyes, willing himself to sleep off the feelings of guilt and accidental betrayal.

~~~~~~~~

He knew the next call would come soon, especially after the message he sent. “All is well, leave dad alone?! All is well?! All is not well, Stiles! Damn it, Batman. What the fuck is wrong with you? Come home right now.” The sound of Erica’s breath is cut off by what Stiles assumed was a switch of phone holders. “Hey, Stiles. What Erica meant was, we miss you, please come home.” Boyd’s soothing tone cut across the line, before the phone was handed off again. “Stiles!” Isaac’s weary tone called. “Where ya been? It’s not as good as home, I bet.” God did he nail that on the head. “So you should come home- please, come home.” Isaac sounded so much like a child being abandoned that Stiles heart pounded. The message beeped at an end, and Stiles quickly curled into himself, on another dingy motel room bed, and tried desperately to avoid dreams of kicked puppies, and crying children.

~~~~~

Stiles was finally close to his new home, about an hour drive out or so, and he didn’t think anything of it when the phone rings twice, and let it go straight to voicemail both times. Instead he thought about the calls from the others, and how each one was saved so he could listen to them on nights he didn’t get a call. He thought about the conversations with his dad, and how the Sheriff would tell him about how all his friends missed him. He would describe how they came over, and went up into Stiles’ room, and they would all just hang out in the now empty bedroom, more than likely using his lingering sent to calm their wolves. So it’s that night, when he’s finally unpacking in his new apartment that he listens to the new voicemails.

“Hey Stilinski, I guess you’ve heard from everyone else. I don’t really know what to say, but just- Come home, it’s not right without you here.” The phone clicks off, ending Jackson’s short but meaningful message.

The next message starts as soon as Stiles saves the previous one

“…You left. No note, no contact info, no idea other than the feeling of pack that you were okay. Damn it, Stiles, did you even think?! Did you, about what this would do to the pack?! They- We need you. We don’t keep you around for your constant babbling, Stiles. You were, you are the heart of the pack. You kept everyone together. Do you know how many fights there’s been since you left? You were the peace-keeper, the peace-maker, the soothing voice, and calming hand of the pack. But I guess that means nothing to you, doesn’t it? That ache you feel in your chest right now is the pain of being away from pack. Multiply that by 10, and put it into each of those betas, and even more for me. Come home, or don’t just be aware of the consequences of your actions.” The line abruptly clicks off, and Stiles is left making a new plan, a better plan he hopes.

~~~~~~~~

Stiles stares at the phone in his hand, rethinking his planning skills, as he hits the call button. It only takes a few rings before someone’s answering the phone.

“’lo?” Derek’s gruff voice murmurs.

“I- uh sorry were you sleeping?”

“Stiles?” The voice sounds more alert, less groggy

“Yeah, uh could you come pick me up?”

“Where are you?” Stiles could practically hear the frown in his voice, and the furrowing of his eyebrows through the phone.

“Beacon County Regional Airport.” He manages to mumble into the phone.

“Give me 10 minutes.” The line clicks dead, and Stiles is left sitting in a deserted airport, late at night. He sees the dark Camaro pull up through the glass pane doors, and hoists his over-stuffed duffel bag up his shoulder and heads out, climbing into the passenger seat. “Hey, Derek.”

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“Well, I’m breathing, and sitting in your car…”

“Stiles..” Derek warns

“I’m coming home alright. I just want the ache to stop, and the pack to stop being so broken. Jackson called me. Fucking Jackson, I feel like the douchey-ist douche in the world.”

“You are."

“Gee, thanks.” The rest of the ride goes along in silence, as Derek drives Stiles to the old Hale house, mostly due to the fact Stiles fell asleep two minutes into it.

~~~~~~~~

When Stiles wakes up the next morning, it’s to a warm body wrapped around him and a small ache still sitting in his chest.

“Derek?” Stiles questions, poking lightly at the arm wrapped securely around his waist.

“Mm, wha’?” is the drowsy response he gets in return.

“We need to get up; I have to talk to the pack. And I always knew you liked to cuddle.”

“Five more minutes.” Derek compromised, tightening his hold on Stiles, fingers absently rubbing at an exposed section of skin.

Shuddering into the touch, Stiles shook his head. “Now.” He pulled at the grip around him, flopping like a fish, thoroughly disturbing Derek’s rest. Growling, Derek rolled Stiles under him, pinning him down against the bed, and leaning in close to the freckled face below him.

“Enough, I’ll call the pack, just stop bouncing.” Stiles gaze was drawn right into Derek’s multi-colored eyes, unblinking and unwavering.

“I missed you.” Stiles admits quietly, dropping his gaze to Derek’s stubble surrounded lips. Instead of saying anything back, Derek lightly brushes his lips over Stiles, calming the ache in Stiles’, and his own, chest. Pulling away, Derek picks up his phone, and begins the process of call the whole pack.

~~~~~~~

No longer than fifteen minutes could have passed before everyone was piling into Derek’s house, staring in shock at Stiles sitting on the newly-bought coffee table. It was as a group that they bombarded him with a group hug, knocking him onto the floor. Shouts of variations of “Stiles, you idiot, if you ever do that again I will hunt you down and kill you” circled through the room, as everyone took their turn, touching him in one way or another.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Is all he can reply with, once everyone’s done, and it’s just Derek left with his arm around his waist. Chatter of what went on for the months he was gone filled the room, everyone intent on catching him up with the on-goings, both natural and supernatural.

Finally, Stiles plan had actually worked. He felt belongingness, and love, he was content. Stiles was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at sterekality.tumblr.com  
> I'll try and do prompt requests,  
> kudos and feed back if you'd like.   
> If there are any mistakes just let me know kindly, please.  
> I'll gladly fix them.   
> :)  
>  I'm sorry if this wasn't the best. I don't know I'm not please with it.


End file.
